


Be Careful What You Wish For

by cakeisnotpie



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Guns, M/M, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, Brandt did say that the next time he got to seduce the rich guy ....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful What You Wish For

Written in response to this gif set [X](http://cakeisnotpie.tumblr.com/post/37380926826/sunsp-james-bond-x-william-brandt-well-he#notes)

 

“Oh, you’ve come.”

The mark was nothing like Will had expected; instead, he was all hard angles and tight muscles, smooth, so in control that nothing read on his face but mild interest. Every instinct screamed that this wasn’t some wealthy socialite dabbling in the arms trade to get his masochist jollies; from first sight at the party, Will had warned the team that this man was something else, something much more dangerous.

“And what exactly do you do, Mr. Brandt?”

 “Acquisitions, mergers, mostly. The standard answer is that I bring interested parties together -- those who want to buy and those who want to sell – and facilitate their transactions.” The Baccarat crystal in his hand was filled with Glen Livet on the rocks, and he idly swirled the cubes until they clinked against the side. He let himself appear nervous because anyone with half-a-brain and the sense God gave a rock would know that this situation was dangerous.

“I prefer the non-standard answer,” he turned those ice blue eyes onto Will and the pressure of the gaze was enough to make most men start to sweat and most women’s heart race.  

“I specialize in providing anything a client wants.” He was trying to get the measure of the man, watching the way the lean body moved, tense and tight like a wound spring.

“I warn you, William … I can call you William, can’t I?” Not waiting for agreement, Bond went on.  “I’m not interested in a middle man. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own business if need be, but I prefer being on top of things.”

Good god, Brandt thought, the man was coming on to him. “You, Mr. Bond, are the type of person I cater to, one with exclusive tastes.”

“Please, call me James.” One eyebrow raised and a shadow of humor colored the blue as he spoke.  “You must be psychic if you understand what I want. You’re sure you can fill my requirements?”

“I know I can. Anything you need.” Well, he had said next time he got to seduce the rich guy. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Would it now?” Bond murmured as sipped his drink. “You’re that good?

“So I’ve been told.” He could match arrogance for arrogance, if that’s what he needed to do. 

Stepping closer to Brandt, Bond ran his fingers under the lapel of the charcoal grey suit. “Nice. Brioni?”

“You know your designers.” Brandt could smell Bond’s aftershave he was so close.

“I know what I like.” The hand straightened Brandt’s open collar, tucking the point back under the suit lapel with a pat. “And I find myself with a need that requires filling.”

Bond was watching Brandt, judging his reactions, trying to throw him off of his game. Well, he could play too. “Well, now, depending upon your preference, I have quite a breadth of experience.”  He was rewarded when Bond’s eyebrow arched up again.

“Money is no object. I tend to be indulgent when it comes to my toys.” A full smile now, and Brandt could see the rumors of Bond’s charm weren’t over-rated.  Danger and raw sexuality were a potent mixture. 

“That’s good to know.  Eases friction and makes things glide along much smoother.” Unbuttoning his jacket, Brandt leaned to the side to sit his glass on the table, coming closer to Bond as he did.

“Oh, I’ll take a shower first. Or you can join me?” Bond headed into the elaborate bathroom, shrugging out of his jacket; Brandt stood, his bluff called, unsure of what to do next.

 _Brandt? Can you hear me? We’ve got a problem, repeat, we have a problem._ Benji’s voice practically shouted in his ear. _That third party is here and on their way up. Get the hell out …._

The door burst opened and men with guns poured in; without a thought, Brandt was firing his Sig Sauer, toppling the table for cover. Bond’s Walther barked and a man fell for each shot. Together they drove the attackers back enough to gain breathing space.

“CIA?” Bond asked. “Or IMF?”

“MI5?” Brandt asked at the exact same time. “Double O, right?”

More men’s feet were pounding down the hallway.

 “Balcony.” Bond said, but Brandt was already ahead of him, opening the doors and taking in the situation. Twenty-seven floors and no way down; across the street, a parking garage rooftop deck beckoned but it was a damn long jump away.

“Well, that breadth of experience could come in handy right now,” Bond quipped. As bullets zinged through the glass behind them, he took a running start and jumped the expanse, landing with a roll.

“Damn it, seduction would have been easier,” Brandt muttered as he backed up and threw himself over the railing, following the other man. The jolt of the landing rocked through his body and his elbow took the brunt of the roll, but he kept running, following the British agent off the roof.

 

 


End file.
